CHAPTER THREE
"A Mild Case of Confusion"
The dungeon cell was clean, dry and sunlight streamed in through a barred window. Kahlan was sitting quietly on the wide wooden bench that passed for a bed. She thought of Stave's small cottage, and noted that this cell was almost as large, and cleaner. Richard was standing at the wooden door, peering through the small iron grill set in it, and shouting. They had no idea where Zedd had been taken.
"Hello?" he yelled. "We've been here for hours!"
Spinning on his heel, Richard angrily punched the air. He ran both hands through his hair, then balled his hands into fists and turned back to the door, pounding on it. "Come on!"
"That's enough," Kalhan said. Her tone was weary and strained, and Richard relented. He sat down on the bench beside her and took her hand. She smiled weakly at him.
"I just don't get it. What do they think we did?" he grumbled. "Who are these guys?"
"They're the Magistrate," offered Kahlan. "Once Darken Rahl outlawed the Confessors, many of the free cities became lawless. Groups like the Magistrate rose up to keep order. I've heard they're fair enough. Better than Rahl at least."
From the hall beyond the door came the click-clack of hobnailed boots on flagstone. Richard moved to the door and peered out. A thin and reedy middle-aged man in a long blue robe materialize before the door, flanked by a pair of guards.
"Kahlan Amnell," announced the functionary, "is called before the Magistrate to give testimony."
Richard snorted while Kahlan rose and glided to the door.
"I'm ready," she said. One of the guards revealed a heavy key and turned it in the lock, pulling the heavy slab door open.
"I'm coming with you," Richard asserted as he stepped through the door.
The guards bristled immediately. One of them growled "Step back."
Richard stood in the doorway, eying the guard. Kahlan put her hand on his shoulder and drew him back in the cell. "I'll be fine Richard, I can take care of myself."
She stepped through the door, and the functionary curtsied and waved Kahlan down the hall. Holding her head high she swept past him and calmly strode down the hall. The functionary hustled to keep up with her. The guards and Richard exchange intimidating stares, and then slammed the door shut.
* * *
Zedd was sitting in large and comfortable leather chair, his still-gloved hands laid out on the polished marlnut table that the guard had seated him at. The Sword of Truth lay on the table before him. That guard now stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes focused on Zedd. Zedd smiled at him, but the guard only glowered, daring him to do something. The mitts were fairly easy to remove, but without aid it was hard to do with speed and subtlety, and this guard knew it. He clearly had no intention of being cooked with wizard's fire.
Zedd studied the room. Every wall was lined with bookshelves, which were full of tomes and scrolls. Various trophies and object of art were given places of honor amongst the books. A large globe set in a pedestal sat near the door opposite the guard. His eyes were drawn back to the trophies. A gold filigree gauntlet laid over a wooden frame seemed familiar. He tried to remember where he'd seen it before. The door opened and Zedd looked up, and remembered immediately when he'd last seen the glove.
"Anclara!" he exclaimed as the antiquarian entered the library, and he took stock of her. Lines he didn't remember crinkled the corners of her eyes, and delicate reading glasses were perched on her nose. Her hair was still pulled back in a severe bun, but once chestnut gold hair was now streaked with white and grey. Still, she was as beautiful as the last time he saw her. Her dress was pale earth tones, subtle as always, but clearly of much finer cut and cloth than the utilitarian peasant garb she'd preferred when they last knew each other. She'd risen in social status. "By the stars, how long as it been!"
"Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander, I hoped it might be you." she smiled broadly. Turning to the guard she ordered Zedd's release from the heavy leather mitts that bound his hands. The guard stepped forward and grabbed the mitts, and struggled to pull them off. Zedd put a foot on his knee for leverage and shoved hard and the mitts popped off. Zedd's leg kicked out straight, and sent the guard tumbling. He grumbled and got to his feet, face flush and ready to make an issue of it.
"You're dismissed," Anclara icily informed the guard, and he collected himself and stormed out of the room, his eyes never leaving Zedd till the door was closed.
"How have you been?" she asked as she took a seat across from him. She was smiling, and Zedd found himself dumbstruck. He mumbled a response, words failing him. She laughed, a light dulcet tinkle of a laugh. "Is this it? The real Sword of Truth?"
She ran her fingers along the gleaming silver blade.
"Yes," Zedd stammered. "Anclara, what are you doing here?"
"I got to old for field work Zedd," Anclara teased. "The Magistrate of Gyrfalcon offered me a position here at the City Hall, curator of the city's collection. I also advise him on matters of magic, such as wizards."
"I see you've added some of your own finds to their collection. That's the Gauntlet of Adrione, isn't it?" asked Zedd, glancing at the filigree glove, and Anclara nodded. He smiled, and asked "Do you remember when we retrieved that from the Tomb of Martek?"
"I remember Zedd," she laughed. "Those were good times. Then you left."
She regarded him seriously. He swallowed hard, and she laughed. "I'm teasing Zedd. Your daughter was in Brennidon during the massacre. You disappeared afterwards. And now here you are, traveling with the Seeker. I've figured it out, and you don't have to explain."
Zedd offered a smile, but he couldn't hide the guilt in his eyes. He searched for words, but none came.
"Or apologize," she said softly as she reached out to touch his hand, and the look she gave him then positively smoldered.
"You know," Zedd laughed nervously. "Your friend the Magistrate has the Seeker and the Mother Confessor in his dungeon."
"Don't worry," Anclara laughed again, waving off his concern and reassured him. "It's clearly a case of mistaken identity. A man was brought in this morning and he identified you and your companions as horse thieves. Honestly Zedd, horse thieves. It's ridiculous."
"Clearly he was attempting to throw the Guard off his own crimes. Your friends will be fine Zedd. Magistrate Kledd is a good man, very fair and very smart. You'd like him, he has a sharp mind, very analytical. He's done a good job here. If your one of your companions really is the Mother Confessor, the truth will out itself soon enough."
"I'm sure they'll join us after they've spoken to Kledd," Anclara said softly as she reached out across the table and ran a finger along the edge of Zedd's hand. The old wizard flushed, and she indicated a shelf behind her with a nod of her head. "There's a bottle of Cyrillian wine and glasses over there, and we have the whole evening to catch up. Would you?"
Zedd smiled and waved a hand towards the wine, and the bottle glided across the room, followed by two glasses. The cork removed itself from bottle as it upended in mid-air,pouring out a glass for each of them. Anclara and Zedd reached for their glasses as the bottle settled onto the table.
* * *
"I sincerely apologize if my men gave you any trouble. Their orders were to treat you with respect."
Kahlan stood across from the Magistrate Kledd, who was leaning back in his chair contemplating her. He liked what he saw, she had an genuine air of nobility and honesty that reassured him that his conjectures about the supposed thief-taker were correct.
"The professionalism of the Gyrfalcon Guard is a testament to the quality of the city's leadership," Kahlan offered demurely. Kledd's eyes gleamed in response to the compliment -- he was clearly a man who valued professionalism highly -- but he was otherwise nonplussed. Kahlan took a moment to appreciate the man's talent. She was a skilled observer of the subtle expressions of emotion that constantly played across the human face, and Magistrate Kledd's face was an almost perfect mask.
Almost perfect. Behind his crinkled and smiling eyes and his relaxed body language, she saw the cold mechanical ticking of a mind like a clockwork. She would be foolish to underestimate the man, and knew she had to tread carefully.
"I hope you understand, here in Gyrfalcon we take justice seriously," he explained as he leaned forward. "With the Confessors gone, we are forced to rely on reason and logic to discern the guilty. Because we cannot know the truth with certainty, we must take extra precautions, we cannot simply assume guilt. We must investigate all claims."
"I applaud your commitment to justice Magistrate Kledd," Kahlan offered politely. "I'm happy to oblige you in your effort to seek the truth."
"That is excellent, excellent," Kledd smiled. "It happens that we have a man in custody who I suspect may have murdered a horse trader."
"A horse trader?" Kahlan asked, surprised. She tried to remember the name of the trader from the day before. "Abbazar?"
"Yes," answered Kledd, his head turning ever so slightly as he regarded her. "You know him?"
"He gave us three horses yesterday," offered Kahlan, feeling slightly unnerved by his stare. "I'm surprised to hear he's dead."
"Yes," Kledd answered slowly, still regarding Kahlan oddly. "The man we have in custody claims you and your companions are horse thieves, disguising yourself as heroes, but I suspect he's trying to throw me off his trail. My men found his horse, and like yours it bears an Abbazar mark. I have little reason to trust him, but I would be remiss if I didn't investigate his alibi."
Kledd chuckled, and when Kahlan regarded him queerly, he offered "I was just thinking how much simpler my job would be if I had your power."
"If you suspect this man of murder, I could confess him. I know that Gyrfalcon no longer relies -"
"Oh no Confessor," Kledd interrupted. "We have not abandoned the old ways, only adapted to the current situation and Rahl's insane obsessions. I would be extremely grateful for any assistance you could render."
He gestured to the pair of guards by the door. "Fetch the prisoner."
The guards saluted and filed out of the room. Kledd smiled at Kahlan and leaned back in his chair.
"They'll be back in a moment," he explained. "We'll have this all sorted out in a moment."
* * *
Richard watched the sun setting over the city through the window of his cell, and returned to pacing.
His hands ached from pounding on the door, and he felt tired. He just wanted to know what was happening, why they were here. He walked to the window and peered out.
"What do you want?" he shouted. "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can make a deal. Please! I just want to know what's going on!"
* * *
"Mordkainen!" shouted Zedd as he laughed heartily and slapped the table, while Anclara smiled wryly and sipped on her wine. "I'd forgotten all about that!"
Zedd leaned back in his chair and exhaled, as his low rumbling laugh subsided. An aftershock brought chuckles. He looked at Anclara and cocked an eyebrow.
"You know that was his sister, right?"
Anclara spit wine across the table in a fine spray and her eyes went wide in surprise as she burst out laughing, which set Zedd off again,
* * *
The door opened with a loud click, and Kledd and Kahlan turned to look, each maintaining their polite facades. The guards escorted a tall, broad-shoulder man in a tunic into the room, each keeping a firm grip on his arms. Kahlan's cheek twitched as she suppressed her shock. It was Damark.
Damark tensed at the sight of her, his jaw clenched tight. He said nothing.
Kledd looked at Damark and then Kahlan. "Have you met?"
"That's the witch I've been chasing since Brennidon." spat out Damark angrily. "She's no confessor, she's just a lying fraud."
Kahlan winced at the accusation. As of late she had questioned herself so much, fearing that she had let her feelings for Richard cloud her judgment, that she had lost her focus. Damark's words hit home in ways he could never imagine.
"This man is -" Kahlan began, but Damark interrupted her by pulling his arms free from the guards and stepping forward. As he came forward he dropped to his knees, hands chained behind his back, and bared his neck to her. For all the submission in his form, his eyes were full of fury and rage.
"Confess me!" he commanded angrily.
Kahlan took a step back and looked at Magistrate Kledd, who returned a deadly cold and steely gaze.
"Come on!" Damark shouted. "Come on Mother Confessor, show these men your power, force me to tell the truth, confess all my misdeeds."
"The man is volunteering Mother Confessor," Kledd added icily. "I for one would like to get to the bottom of this once and for all."
Kahlan stepped forward and put her hand on the man's neck. She let go, let the power flow from her into Damark. There was nothing. He was already confessed, and the power simply would not flow. Damark twitched in her grip, slumping back.
"Command me, Confessor."
Kahlan released the breath she didn't realized she was holding. On the other side of the desk Kledd relaxed, and seemed genuinely relieved. He started to gesture to the guards when Damark snorted. Damark turned to look at Kledd, and Kledd's eyebrow twitched with shock. Damark sneered and said "I told you the witch was lying."
"No," protested Kahlan. "I confessed this man earlier. Before we came Gyrfalcon."
"She's lying your honor," shouted Damark, drowning out her protest as he rose smoothly to his feet. He held up his chained wrists behind his back and shook them at the guards. "She's lying or she's insane. Probably both!"
Kledd frowned, clearly disappointed by this turn of events. He nodded to the guards, and one stepped forward to unlock Damark's manacles. Kledd regarded Kahlan with a look of deep disappointment. Gesturing to the other guard as he turned his back to her and regarded the courtyard beyond his window, he said "Return her to her cell, I'll decide her punishment in the morning."
"Your honor," protested Damark, "with all due respect, I have chased this woman across the Midlands. She's wanted for serious crimes in Brennidon, and I've been paid to bring her home. Release her into my custody. I'll be out of the city within the hour, and you can wash your hands of all of this."
"No," Kahlan shouted. "This isn't right, this man is lying. I confessed him and..."
Damark stepped forward and grabbed Kahlan's arm, his grip grinding bones in her wrist. "Nobody believes your nonsense!" he growled.
Kledd continued to silently stare out. After a long moment he finally said "Turn the woman over to the thief-taker. I want them out of the city immediately. I don't wish to see either of you again."
Damark took the manacles from the guard and slapped them on Kahlan's wrists as she struggled and protested. The same guard escorted Damark and his prisoner from the office, and as Damark dragged Kahlan from the room she was still screaming her innocence.
Magistrate Kledd listened to her protests echo off the hall as they receded in distance. Finally he turned to the remaining guard and offered "It's sad, to see someone impersonate a Confessor. For a moment I felt real hope, I wanted so badly to have a Confessor in Gyrfalcon. She seemed so convincing. I really believed she was who she claimed to be. It just shows you the power emotions have to cloud reason and judgment."
Kledd returned to contemplating the courtyard beyond his window. The guard offered no opinion.
* * *
Richard paced back and forth. He'd measured the exact dimensions of this cell a dozen times. Eight paces across, fourteen paces long. He walked to the door, shouting through the small grill. His voice echoed down the hall, but there was no response. There was never a response.
He slumped against the door, sliding down into a heap. He pulled his knees up and folded his arms over his head. He was never getting out of this cell. He would never see Kahlan again. Never see Zedd again. Darken Rahl had won, he was going to die forgotten in this cell. He knew it.
* * *
"Please, you don't understand, this man is under some sort of spell!" pleaded Kahlan, but the guardsman escorting them ignored her. "I am the Mother Confessor!"
Damark held the chain of her manacles tightly, jerking her roughly as she tried to persuade the guardsman, and it made her effort seem all the more comical. Frustrated Kahlan struggled the chains, which only provoked Damark to growl and yank harder. She staggered forward and dropped to a knee. Damark responded by simply pulling her off her feet and dragging her down the hall, slipping and sliding across the smooth marble tile floor.
"She's got some spirit, doesn't she." chuckled the guard. "Don't envy having to watch this one all the way to Brennidon."
They came to stable entryway, and the guardsman held the door open for Damark. Struggling on the floor, Kahlan readied herself. Silently she asked the spirits to forgive her for what she was about to do. Damark let go of her chain and grabbed her roughly by the arm, hauling her to her feet, and she lunged forward, reaching out for the guardsman. He reacted by jerking his head back, his eyes gone wide with shock.
Her fingers grazed the skin of his cheek, she felt the line of his jaw, and by then Damark had a fistful of her hair, and yanked hard, snapping her head back and cracking her entire body like a whip. Still holding onto her hair, he slammed her into the frame of the door and she fainted as wave of pain passed through her.
Moments later when she came to consciousness she panicked. Everything was dark. No, there was bag over her head. The dry and dusty smell of oats indicated a feed bag. She tried to scream but Damark had gagged her with a wadded up piece of cloth. Probably torn from her dress. The thought angered her. Her hands and feet were bound, and from the motion and pressure on her ribs, she knew she must be strapped to the back of a horse.
She struggled, but it was futile.
* * *
"I'm entirely serious Zeddicus, you should consider it," Anclara said as she stood and walked to a bookshelf behind Zedd's head. She pulled out a heavy leather-bound tome. "Sinthra's Astrolabe would allow you to predict Rahl's exact location days in advance of his arrival there. Rather than chase around after him like a headless chicken, you could head straight to where you know he'll be."
She leaned over him and placed the book down. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and he could feel her bosom pressed against his back. Butterflies danced in his stomach as she flipped through pages, and he wondered for a moment about the perfume she was wearing. He turned to face her and found himself starring at the graceful expanse of her bare neck. She turned her head, catching his eye and whispered softly "If you'll just look here."
He looked down at the illustration she indicated, a hand drawing of an astrolabe more complex then any he'd seen before. Finally he stammered "I've heard of it, but I thought Sinthra's tower was lost."
Anclara stood, her fingers running along his shoulder, and Zedd turned in his seat to face her, looking up at her with fond eyes, a question forming on his lips as the door to the library opened. The thin and reedy functionary in the long blue robe poked his head in the door. His eyebrows went up as he recognize that he'd interrupted a tender moment, and meekly announced "Pardon me Madame Anclara, but Magistrate Kledd would like to see you."
The functionary considered Zedd for moment, and then added "Is that -" but the question trailed off as he searched for the right words.
"Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander," Anclara offered, adding "First Wizard."
Zedd acknowledge the title with a bow, though he did not rise from his seat.
"You mean he's a real wizard?" squeaked the functionary, suddenly flustered. Anclara laughed and assured the nervous bureaucrat he was.
"But the Confessor and Seeker are false?" he asked hopefully. Zedd and Anclara exchanged puzzled glances. Zedd noted that he felt a bit drunk, and suddenly wondered how long he and Anclara had been talking. He was surprised to find that the sun had set.
"Derwin," Anclara voice was suddenly sharp and strict, the librarian's tone of warning Zedd remembered from their earliest encounters. "Magistrate Kledd released the Seeker and the Mother Confessor, didn't he?"
Derwin blinked. Then he blinked again.
"Derwin, what did the Magistrate do?" Zedd asked, rising to his feet and leaning forward as if he might come over the table at the poor functionary.
"Magistrate Kledd turned the false Confessor over to a thief-taker from Brennidon." Derwin said, gulping. Then he added "The young man is to be hanged in the morning."
Zedd looked at Anclara incredulously, she was dumbfounded, a look he hadn't seen on her face often. She rushed around the desk and barreled past Derwin, loudly protesting to no one in particular that the whole situation was "Impossible!"
Zedd followed her out of the library and into the hall, summoning the Sword of Truth to his hand with a wave as he rushed from the room. Derwin starred intently at the ground, shrinking away from the wizard as he approach. She had grabbed her dress in her hands and was storming down the hall in a decidedly unladylike fashion. Zedd hurried after, demanding to know what had happened.
"You'll know when I know," she shouted as she ran.
* * *
Richard was sitting on the bench, starring at the small patch of weak light cast by the half moon out his window. Obviously the Magistrate intended to let him sit in this cell overnight, and there was nothing to be done about it. Anger, worry, despair, none of these were of any use. He lay back on the bench and closed his eyes. Might as well try to make the best of it and get some sleep.
He was just ready to drift off when he heard the clacking of boots coming from far down the hall. He opened his eyes, but the sound was gone. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Then the click clack again, and the sound resumed. Definitely boots, and from the sound of it several pairs.
Richard swung his legs off the bench and hopped to his feet, rushing to the door. Pushing his face against the grill he tried in vain to see down the hall.
"Hello?" he shouted. "Kahlan?"
"Richard!" came the response, but the voice was Zedd's.
Richard could hear the old wizard rushing toward the door, and soon he materialized in front of the small window.
"Don't worry son, we'll have you out of there in the moment."
He held up the Sword of Truth and passed it through the grill.
"Where's Kahlan?" Richard asked impatiently, watching Zedd step aside as the pair of guards reached the door with the key to the cell. Richard was just belting his scabbard around his waist when the door opened. He met Zedd in the hall and demanded knowledge of Kahlan. He took note of two unfamiliar faces, the first an older man with a long face and hawkish countenance in long black robes and a powdered wig, and the other a severe looking middle-aged woman in drab finery. "And who are they?"
"I am Magistrate Kledd, Seeker." offered the wigged man. He bowed slightly while offering his hand. Richard shook his hand but looked at him questioningly.
"Zedd, where's Kahlan." Richard asked again, looking at the old wizard.
"I must offer my most humble and sincere apologies. There has been grave mistake," the Magistrate continued. "I assure you we are doing everything we can to recover the Mother Confessor."
"Will someone just tell me what's going on?" yelled Richard.
* * *
It had been several minutes since Kahlan had felt the horse move . The air felt warm, and she was dry. Before there had been rain. She could hear voices far off in the distance, celebrating, happy voices. She could only smell oats. She was certain Damark was not on the horse. What was happening?
She struggled against the ropes. If she could roll off the horse, get on the ground maybe she could find some way to free herself. She bucked and thrashed, but her efforts only seemed to make the ropes tighter. The horse neighed in protest and stomped its feet.
"Too late to get away now, Confessor," laughed Damark as he slapped across her rear. "I've got what we came for."
Damark mounted the horse and they were moving again. Kahlan tried her best to hear what was happening. They were moving down city streets. Now they were stopping, and Damark was arguing with someone. They were moving again.
It was colder, and the wind had picked up. She couldn't hear people moving about anymore, the yelling and cavorting of the city at night. She pricked her ears and thought she head the rhythmic chirping of crickets accompanied by frogs.
Damark and his captive had left the city.